Waltz of Treachery
by FireflySummer
Summary: In the throws of his victory, Malekith offers Thor a 'mercy', to decide which of his two captives will live: Jane Foster or Loki? Rated T for blood and character death. Alternate ending of Dark World. I hope. Based on a drabble and prompt from Lady Charity.


**AN: This drabble came out of a prompt thing that Lady Charity posted on her blog, and then ended up sort of revenge of the seemingly limitless amount of angst that ends up on said blog. All the writing is mine, except the dialogue at the very end belongs to a drabble LC posted not terribly long ago (mykingdomforapen . tumblr post/62521738337/marty-mc-replied-to-your-post-ima gine-a-scene)**

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"NO!" Thor's voice entered like thunder, almost intrusive on the unnatural stillness of the battlefield. Malekith stood before him, arms extended to hold Jane in her magical prison. And at the very farthest was Loki, who needed no restraint.

He was too far gone to pose any threat at all.

Exhausted, magic completely spent, and bearing a wound to his abdomen that continued to bleed out. Loki was holding himself erect, a blank mask carefully shrouding the pain and resignation that came with the realization that everything—the battles, the plans, the double and then triple crossing—had all been for naught. They had lost, and now there was nothing to do but die with some shred of dignity.

Except Thor, stupid, stupid Thor, hadn't seemed to realize this yet. The fire in his eyes had not died yet, and the sight of it was almost enough to rekindle Loki's dying spark. Almost.

Unfortunately, though, Malekith saw it too. A cruel smile flickered on that scarred face, and Loki suddenly _knew_ what was coming. Knew because Malekith was the kind of creature who desired not only victory, but to grind his enemies away until they were nothing more than dust. The kind of creature that burned with the self-defeating desire to destroy those who had first wronged him.

And Loki knew it because he had seen that cruel smile so many, _many_ times in the glass reflection in his cell.

"You have lost, Thunderer," Malekith said. Thor glared at the address, but looked ready to redefine Malekith's definition of 'lost', but Malekith already had all the cards. "Take another move, and both your lover and brother die here and now."

"And if I surrender, you will let them live?" The fighting light in Thor's eyes didn't die, but he stopped his urge to smash the nearest Dark Elves to pieces long enough to warily listen to Malekith's tones. Loki wondered when his brother had learned such restraint. During his time with Jane on earth? Or sometime after his fall? It really didn't matter. He was bleeding out, and it took all his concentration to keep his feet.

"No," Malekith conceded, "I will let _one_ of them live, of your choice Thunderer." Thor looked mutinous, to which the cruel grin spread across his face. "Think carefully. If you act now, you may slay a few of us, but you will still fall in the end. And you will have lost everything. This way, you keep at least this cold comfort in your failure. So which will it be? Your lover? Or your…" Malekith paused, casting a sneer in Loki's direction. "Brother?"

A laugh burbled up in Loki's throat, but choked off somewhere in his throat, the taste of blood already filling his mouth. Could Thor not see what Malekith was lying? Awarding some hope, only to ruthlessly snatch it away. It was a cruel trick, one that Loki knew well. It was the sad story of his life, after all.

A life that would soon come to an end. Because even if it wasn't a trick, even if Malekith the Accursed had any intent at all to follow through with his promise, he knew, deep down, that Thor would never choose him. Knew that he would not choose himself either.

But he would be lying to himself it some small part of him didn't wish desperately for it to not be so.

He could have warned Thor of Malekith's intended treachery, since his stupid golden brother had clearly chosen to be blindsided by this flare of hope. Could have, but it wouldn't have done any good. And besides, if he was to die, he should at least have it confirmed that his reasons behind everything, his fall into hatred and vengeance, was justified. That in the end, a Jotun foundling could never be a prince of Asgard…a brother of Thor.

"Time's up, Thor," Malekith said, his voice as cold and bright as a sword, "Make your decision."

It really didn't matter, but he had to _know_.

He saw Thor glance down at his hand where Mjolnir awaited his command. For a moment, Loki thought that Thor would take the stupid way out and attempt to solve the problem the way he always had: by hitting it really hard. But only for a moment, and the Mjolnir was being flung to the earth with a heavy _thud_.

"I choose both," Thor said, "My life…in exchange for the one who you would have taken."

Had Loki been in the right mindset, he would have gaped. But all he could do was watch with dull shock as the Dark Elves descended upon his brother like a vicious swarm, beaten the now unresisting Thunder God until he could no longer stand.

Malekith watched until Thor was on his knees, cape torn and bleeding severely at several points. The fighting light in Thor's eyes had not died, even as he seemed to embrace the inevitable fate before them. For a moment, those blue eyes traveled away from Malekith, to where Loki stood, less straight now and beginning to slouch into his injury.

For all the distance that had come between them, Loki could almost hear the words that his brother could not speak aloud. A plea. A promise. An apology.

_Never doubt that I love you_.

And in reply, Loki hoped that Thor could read the message embedded beyond the quiet mask he wore.

_Thor, you fool._

"Let them live Malekith," Thor pleaded, the words more labored than usual under the weight of his injuries.

"But of course." At the tone in his voice, something sharp twisted within Loki.

The dark air was shredded for a moment by a flash of light. Jane Foster was dead before she hit the ground.

Loki could hear Thor's heartbroken scream through the chaos, but he was given no time to think. Malekith was upon him, knocking his remaining knife from his hand and landing a punishing blow on his wounded stomach. The little reserve of strength he had had crumbled, and Loki's knees buckled, kept upright only by a hand holding his hair. Suddenly, there was a knife—_his_ knife, a part of his brain realizes—pressed up against his neck. But he couldn't bring himself to care. His vision of the world was already swimming, and the only thing he could seem to focus on was Thor. Bright, stupid, golden Thor, whose blue eyes watched with heartbroken horror how the scene before him has unfolded.

He thought, suddenly, of how much he had once wished Thor to understand what it truly meant to lose _everything_. It really wasn't worth it, in the end.

"Please…" The first word that his brother managed to choke out. It sounded wrong. Thor doesn't beg, doesn't plead.

Suddenly the knife was pressing in. Loki could feel it, digging sharply into his neck. Could feel what's left of his blood beginning to run down his neck.

"Please. You can take my life," Thor said. The note too, was unfamiliar. Desperation, but not quite. Not with the way each word trembled. "Take my hands, take my blood, take anything of mine, but don't—" He stuttered, and Loki wondered if he would finish the sentence. Realized that he wanted him to, so desperately. That nothing, not the knife or his impending death, mattered more than what Thor was about to say next. "Don't…don't you hurt my brother."

Loki met his eyes then, and wondered what his brother saw. He hoped against all hope that it's the message that he intended to convey, but can no longer form the words to speak.

_Never doubt that I love you._

And suddenly, Thor wept, tears spilling from his eyes. "Malekith, please. You win, you've taken everything. You've taken everything of me, there is nothing I can do—please let my brother go. Have mercy, Malekith, please—"

"I see," Malekith interrupted. His tone had changed, and with a sudden clarity, Loki knew what was coming next. He willed away the tears that were stinging at his own eyes, refusing to remove his gaze from his brother. Knew that if he could have chosen the last thing to see before the darkness and flames that surely await him in Helheim, it would be Thor. "I see. This must be how it was like when I begged for mercy, and your people killed my family."

Malekith plunged the knife.


End file.
